i'm thinking about doing these in lower case now

today, i put on a bathing suit. yes, i know that it was 30 degrees. yes, i know that we were having an ice storm. there was a very very good reason for the swim wear. i haven't worked out in a few days, because of the weather and all. i was beginning to feel sort of...bulbous. and, whenever i'm feeling bulbous, here's what i do: i put on my bathing suit and look in the mirror, and i say this to myself: "kristi, if you had to go on mtv's battle of the sexes right now, would you be ok in the bikini? or would you be the fattest one there?" after some deliberation, i concluded that i would most definitely not be the fattest one there, so i put my sweat pants back on and continued to watch the replacements on tbs.

kenny chesney's new song "anything but mine" is one of my favorites right now. but here's the problem: in the first verse there's a line that goes like this, "there's a warm wind coming in, from off of the ocean..." every single daggum time i go to sing that line, i sing, "there's a warm breeze coming in," instead of a "warm wind." now, "breeze" does mean the same thing as "wind," and it fits alright into the lyrics. i do this often. live has a song that goes like this, "i must confess that i feel graciously bigger than the rain and hotter than the sun," but i sing it like this, "i must admit that i feel..." again, it does not really interrupt the flow of the song, and confess=admit, but it bothers me anyway. why can't i just sing the real word?

oh well. it could be worse. i could be the fattest girl on an mtv challenge.

This is Mean Girl. She has been on every desk I've had since I was a sophomore in college. I have no idea why. 

"Ms. Grooms, you are the coolest teacher in the world!" The simplest things make them happy.  

Beware the Dreaded Nutria

I have a special talent. It's really stupendous, get ready...I can recognize celebrities when they are doing voice overs. I know, exciting right? Or maybe a little sad. I can't decide. In any event, Julia Roberts is doing the voice over on the new America On-line commercial, Gary Sinese is doing a Chevy commercial, and Christine Lahti does some skin cream thing. Hands down. I KNOW it's them. I have a nack, or is that spelled knack? And, what's even cooler, I mean, as if this could be any cooler, is that the celebrity doesn't even have to really be all that famous. When Meredith and I went to see Finding Nemo, she said "Who's the voice for the dad," and all of a sudden, just because she had asked, I knew. "Albert Brooks, " I said. She turned to me and asked, "Who is Albert Brooks?" And I shrugged, because I don't even really know who he is. But, I do recognize his voice. I should go on some show and perform amazing acts of voice recognition.

I'm watching WIS this morning, and Hannah Nelson is talking about some "new creature" that's about to break into South Carolina's borders. It's coming from Louisiana, and it is evidently some kind of water-dweller, something akin to a beaver but not quite. This is what I gather anyway, from Hannah Nelson. The new creature is called a "nutria." If you see one, you should call the Wildlife police because it is apparently some huge deal that they got into our state. They quoted some Wildlife official who said that the problem started when "the first nutria crossed the border." Is that funny to anyone else? "APB 911 ALERT THE PRESS: THERE HAS BEEN AN INFILTRATION OF THE FORCE FIELD...OH GOD...WE'VE GOT A...A BEAVER?...OH NO NO...NOT THIS...IT'S A NUTRIA!!"

Hah. Because the name reminds me of Garnier Nutrisse, that awesome herbal hair coloring, I'm not really all that scared of the nutria. I hope I'm not setting myself up for some kind of awful disaster, should I ever run into one.

P.S. I cannot believe Karamo said he would slit Landon's throat if they were on a deserted island.

Handy Dandy Jack

All My Children is about to celebrate show number 9,000.

That's really something, don't you think?

I'll bet you my grandma has seen them all.

They say that if they made the series into a movie, that movie would be more than one year long.

I bet my grandma would go.

I like to put spaces between lines like this. To me, there's something vaguely stylistic about it. That's probably just me.

Today my kids and I talked about "book smarts" v. "street smarts." Naturally, they all want to insist that street smarts are the key to life, thereby making school entirely unnecessary. I gave them some quotes about wisdom. There was one really cool one from Robert E. Lee: "Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain." There was another one from Socrates that was awesome. You wanna know what their hands down favorite was? Here goes:

"A wise man will pick up a grain of sand and be able to see the world, but an unwise man will just roll around in the seaweed until he is covered in it. Then he will stand up and say, 'Hey, I'm Vine Man.'"
-Jack Handy

Jack Handy wins every time. Socrates smocrates, that's what they say, we want Jack Handy!

Last night it got so cold that my emergency heat came on in the apartment. I don't know exactly how that works, but it happened. I woke up to the smell of smoke. The heating unit gives off this smell when it goes into emergency mode, so I'm told. In any event, there's nothing quite like being roused out of sleep on a Monday morning by the sudden conviction that my house is on fire, only to discover that it is, in fact, not on fire. Good times.

Thanks to Rob, I now have a sense of trepidation every time I am swiping my debit card. What if it doesn't work? Will I have to spit on it?

If I Were an Ant, Would I Teach all of the Ant Children?

Remember how last night's ER was going to be a "WILD ONE"? Well, it was so wild that I fell asleep. The sheer wildness was too much for me...I mean I was watching it and all of a sudden they were having a meeting with Weaver and then Pratt was rude to a patient and that new weird intern, you know the one who used to be Darlene on Roseanne, called Luca "hot." I mean really, by the time Neela had agreed to move in with Ray, the excitement had mounted so much that I just collapsed into a stimulus-overload-induced sleep.

Exactly.

My kids read a short story about a Native American Indian this week. We talked about how Indians would give themselves new names when they came of age, and these names were usually based on some skill or trait that the individual had, and nature symbols were used to express these skills. For example, someone really fast might be called "Swift Wind," or something such as that. So, the next natural step for me as a teacher was to have my kids come up with their own Indian names. I told them to think of a skill that they had, something about themselves that they were proud of, and then to think of something in nature that could symbolize that skill or trait.

Allow me to present the greatest hits of made-up Indian names:

"I would be called "Little Bow Wow."

"I'd name myself chicken-eater-corn-peeler, because of my chicken-eating and corn-peeling skills."

"I would be an ant. Or maybe a cat."

Wow.

Something else funny. At practice we use a whistle to get the girls' attention. The other day, they were running their own practice, but without the precious whistle because, hey, we put our mouths on those things! So anyway, at one point, one of my girls wanted to get everyone's attention. She walks to the middle of the court and yells out: "WHISTLE." Hah. Love that kid.

And, just to clarify, when I was a tutor for USC's Athletic department, the boys never fought with other teams during a game, and they definitely never stole computers. Coincidence? I think not.

Kawaskum Is A Town in Wisconsin (Evidently)

My hatefulness towards telemarketers reached an all-time high moments ago. I'm tired, you see, because I've had a rather long day. Having yesterday off only made today feel like a Monday, and those, as we know, are just bad news.

I was very tired. Very frazzled. Here's how frazzled I was: I had an entire conversation with one of my kids about golf. I talked about Annika Sorenstam's short game. I talked about Phil. Ten seconds later, he says, "Do you have any irons?" And I say, "What, like I use on my clothes?" He laughed at me. The day just proceeded from there.

So...I was looking forward to being at home, making a nice salad, kicking my feet up, etc. etc. Imagine my chagrin when the phone rings and I pick it up, only to have someone pronounce my name wrong.

"Can I speak to Kreestee Groovs?"

Immediately, I realize that this person does not know me.

"Who is this?" I really punch the "this" when I say it too, very accusatory, daring them to say something else.

There is a pause.

DOM DOM DOM...

He manages to get out, "I'm calling on behalf..." Before I lay it on him. Here's what I said:

"Are you serious? Are you seriously calling me at 6.30? Honestly?"

Click.

See, I realize that the poor man works for someone, that someone somewhere has compiled a list that he sits and works through. This is how he makes his money. But I needed to take my anger out.

Maybe he'll scratch my name off the list, really hard, like so hard that he tears the paper up.

Oh well. At least the new American Idol starts tonight. Bring on the warblers and the screechers! I know Simon is meaner than I am!

A Portmanteau for a Kawaskum

"If there were two bowling alleys, exactly alike, except that one of them had wall-to-wall whores, I'd patronize the one with the whores." - Kenny from Ed.

Reruns of Ed on TBS at 12.00 pm, apparently daily. Going back to work tomorrow just got even harder. There have been very few shows in the history of television with this caliber of writing. You can quote me on that, if you ever find yourself in a situation where it would be useful.

Desperate Housewives won some awards last night. Those are well deserved.

Clive Owen and Natalie Portman won for Closer. I guess if the prize goes to the ones who can say the f-word the most times in 2 minutes, both of those were well deserved as well.

This morning I ran 2.8 miles. Again, I wonder why I get so close to an even 3 and quit? I've been doing some thinking, and I'll bet it has to do with the sheer level of boredom that I have reached by that point. The treadmill is no good for me. The monotony saps the life right out of me. I need to run outside. Basketball season needs to end so I can have a life after school again. Back in the day...you know...way back in the August/September area, I used to run at Riverfront after school. I do love my girls, don't get me wrong, but I am not going to be crying at the end of the season. Nope, I'll be too busy picking out new running shoes and hitting the road. I hope it's warmer by then.

Last night I finally started reading East of Eden. My aunt gave me this really nice vintage-looking edition for Christmas...in 2003. I've been hauling the book around for a solid year. It is 600 pages long. That kind of reading requires a commitment, and I wasn't ready until now. I'm sick of reading the books my kids read. And I'm sick of reading the short stories out of their literature book. I needed a real, adult, grown up book that regular people read. So, here I go.

Meredith's going to name her little girl Lillian. She is not pregnant, nor is she thinking of becoming pregnant at any point in the next three to five years, at a minimum. However, we talk about Lillian, and what she will wear and what will go in her nursery. And I already love her so much. That's crazy isn't it? Wouldn't be the first time.

Last night I dreamed that I went to New York. And I was just walking around, and there was this store that sold keychains. There was a really cool electric guitar keychain, and I was thinking I should pick it up for one of my students. He is nuts about guitars. They put keychains on their bookbags. He would like it. Then, I was thinking, I can't buy just one keychain. I'd have to buy 65, for all of my students. So I was disappointed. But then, he showed up and bought it for himself. Turns out, he was in New York with his family. Man, every time we get a holiday, I dream about the kids. They just show up in my subconscious at night. I'm telling you, they haunt me, even if I travel.

I watched The Practice this morning. It made me think I'd be a good lawyer, just like Chicago Hope had me convinced, when I was 13, that I'd be a neurosurgeon. Then I went to sophomore biology and destroyed the pig brain trying to extract it. The dream died. Now, catching old episodes of Ellen makes me want to own a bookstore. You'd think I had grown out of this by now, but apparently not. This is why I'm so sad that Boston Public does not come on at 7.00 anymore, like it used to. I could watch it and go, "Whoa, maybe I should be a teacher...wait, I AM one." I should write a letter to the WE network and explain the situation. I'll tell them that I need a television show to validate my current career.

Note: When I spellchecked this, it pulled "Portman" and suggested that I replace it with "portmanteu." Then, it pulled "keychain" and suggested "Kawaskum."

Haha. I love that.

My Prediction: Brad and Jennifer Will Reunite

I hang up on telemarketers. I mean, they say, "How are you today?" and I just hang right up. But not before I say, "Are you kidding me! It's Sunday!" I don't say that into the receiver of course. I say it as I take the phone away from my mouth to hang it up. But, I know they hear me. Sometimes I feel sort of mean about that, but seriously, do they really intend to sell me something on a Sunday afternoon?

And you know what's worse? My phone service is with a certain company that will remain nameless, for their protection. But, their initials are B.S. (suits them very nicely). They are constantly calling me with new B.S. promotions. And, I suspect that these other telemarketers are getting my number from B.S. Therefore, I have no qualms whatsoever about hanging right up on my own service provider. After all, they have betrayed me in a sense.

I sort of like commercials. My favorite one right now is for Dr. Pepper. There is a boy, and he's doing all of these things for his girlfriend while he holds a can of Dr. Pepper. He buys tampons, he folds her thong underwear in full view of everyone in the laundry mat, and he goes to her yoga class. In the background they are playing that Meatloaf song, "I Would Do Anything For Love." In the end of the commercial, they are lying on the couch, and it gets to the part of the song where Meatloaf says, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that." The girl tries to take his can of Dr. Pepper, and he runs right out into the street and flees, presumably away from her forever.

Television Good News of the Week: Abby didn't die on ER.

Long Time No Blog

600 people is too many for a wedding. One of my good friends tells us last night that she's planning on 600 people when she gets married. It's quite possible that I don't even know 600 people who would be interested in my nuptials. Is that bad? I bet I could swing about 400, if I tried. But then again, I'm not really into big deals like that.

At the gym this morning I got chastised twice. See, you're not supposed to cross your ankles when you sit on this one machine, but I was doing that. So I was actually kicked in the foot, and then my wonderful gym lady made this little sign with her fingers, where she held two up and then just moved those really fast back and forth. Apparently, that is the secret signal to uncross my ankles. So I did. THEN, I was on this other machine where you are supposed to hold your toes up, and mine weren't totally perpendicular to the pedal, so again my foot got kicked, and I was given another strange signal which I took to mean I should hold my toes up more. Naturally, all of this is Meredith's fault. If she wouldn't insist on talking to me the entire time we work out, I would be more inclined to remember the gym rules. Incidentally I would probably also die of boredom, so there has to be some kind of trade off. I suppose I'll just have to take the foot kicks. They don't hurt.

One of my kids is so funny. His sense of humor is incredibly sarcastic, so it is naturally right up my alley. On Friday he freewrote about joining the Lego League. He wrote in his journal that he has been practicing his lego skills, and that now he can build a car, a buffalo, a swamp, a farm, and an umbrella for when it rains. He hopes to make Varsity Lego one day. If you ask me, that is really funny stuff.

I'm really excited for Rob that his e-mail to that radio show resulted in some changes being made. I wonder if I could do something similar. See, I enjoy MTV's Made. But, very recently, they aired an episode where a girl with a speech impediment wrote a song and sang and danced in her school's talent show. And, she had to ask a lot of cool in-crowd people to be in her little skit. They all agreed, because there are cameras there with her when she asks them. Did anyone see this? I'll tell you, it was painful to watch. It was not at all uplifting, like the one where the girl won homecoming queen and got a boyfriend, or the one where the boy lost a lot of weight and got to kiss a girl at camp. I think that MTV should be more careful about their selections for Made. Perhaps I should e-mail them.

Speaking of "perhaps," at dinner last night one of the 20 people I was with asked the waiter "Could I get some more water, perhaps?" Who talks like that?

Our girls beat Irmo this week in basketball. 27-23. That was stressful. It was terribly dramatic, because both of us went into that game 6-0, and we knew somebody was going to take their first loss. Wasn't us...na-nanny-boo-boo.

We had an inservice yesterday. I swear, I would hate for any of my students to see me in those inservices. I am so stone cold bored out of my mind. I'm staring off into space. I'm writing a grocery list. I'm reading a magazine. I'm laying my head down. Any one of these things would get my students a smart reprimand, but I did them ALL for 8 hours yesterday. Such a role model am I.

During the last session at inservice, we talked about a website called "Descarte" which is pronounced day-cart (for anyone wondering). Well, towards the end of the session, our leader goes "So, to review, what is in Descarte?" One of my favorite colleagues holds her head up and says, "Day groceries are in day cart." She should've gotten a lunch detention.

Make the Best of These Tasks And Don't Ask Why

It's been a long time, and I miss my blog.

Today was...well...today was today. My kids got the new stem "gymn" today. It means "naked," so it's now naturally their very favorite stem. The two words that they got with it were "gymnastics" and "gymnasium." So, I begin explaining:

Me in My Teacher Voice: "In Ancient Greece, all forms of athletics were called 'gymnastics.' They did these things naked. It's just what they did. Yes they wrestled. Yes they ran with javelins. I don't think they played ice hockey. Anyway, they practiced in an arena that they called the 'gymnasium.' "

What happened next shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, being as how I do currently spend most of my life with 13-year-olds. Nevertheless, I was taken a bit back when my kid looks up and says, "So, you mean that we should go to gym and be naked?"

Oh God.

"No, please, whatever you do, do not go tell anyone that I said you should be naked in gym."

Jeez.

Friday night I couldn't stop saying "Dude." I literally couldn't. I'm with these children way too much. What's happening to my life? I sometimes wonder.

Sunday I ran 2.9 miles and couldn't decide if I was proud that I had upped that from about 2.7, or annoyed that I got so close to an even 3 and stopped just short. That was very uncharacteristic, since I like things to be even. Seriously. I only pump gas in multiples of 25 cents. If I go to 18.01, I'm going to 18.25, and if it goes to 18.26, I'm going to 18.50. You see, it just works better that way for me.

I might be OCD. Sometimes I think so.

Our girls beat Lexington tonight in basketball. First time in three years. I was so proud of them. And then I wonder, how much praise is too much? Am I running the risk of creating little ego-maniacs? It's delicate. Oh so very delicate.

Last night I slept with "Crest Whitening Strips" in my mouth. I swallowed the bottom one during the night. All day I kept waiting to become violently ill.

My greatgrandmother is not doing well. She's 103. I don't quite know how to feel about this.

Meredith left me a message during my game. She wanted to know how my day was, and she wanted to wish me luck. She said "Go Foxes" at the end of her message. It was such a small thing, and then it wasn't. She's my favorite person sometimes.

Yesterday, in Wal-Mart, I saw two girls buying groceries who were obviously roommates at Carolina. Part of it made me sad. Part of it made me thankful for that part of my life being behind me. I don't know which part won.

Where are we again?

Best Boyfriends Forever

So, this morning I was tired. This is HOW tired I was:

1. I prepare my cereal, and two seconds before putting the milk in it, I realize that I have the water jug in my hand, thus nearly watering my Special K.

2. I'm driving to school and I think, "Did I get my car keys?"

3. At school, I tell my kids, "You can't be writing and taking notes at the same time."

I'll tell you what, it has been that kind of week. You know the kind.

The highlight of the past 5 days was imitating Napolean Dynamite in 2nd block.

I just saw a preview for ER that insinuated Abby might be carjacked and shot. If that happens, let me go on record as saying that I will be officially done with Must See TV. They've toyed too much with my emotions in the past year, what with the whole Friends thing and all.

At the gym today I found out that I didn't gain any weight over the holidays. I feel accomplished.

How come some women will call their female friends "girlfriend," but men don't do that? Boys don't call their male friends "boyfriend." I think that they should.

What if I Just Left This Blank?

So I'm in Food Lion, and I'm checking out, and I ask the woman who's ringing me up how she's doing. She says, "I'm blessed." See now, is it weird that this bothers me? There is another person in my life who always does that. It never fails. I say, "How are you?" She says, "I'm blessed." I say, "How was your weekend?" She says, "It was blessed." I say, "How was your break?" She says, "A blessed one." I wonder if she thinks that I'm not grateful for the good things in my life just because I say, "I'm fine" when she asks me, instead of "I'm blessed." Is she flaunting some type of moral superiority? I don't know what it is about this thing, but it gives me the feeling that I'm being condescended to.

I coach middle school basketball. Assistant coach, actually. Today my girls missed 20/28 free-throws. So they did 20 line drills. 1 line drill means running from one side of the basketball court to the other, from side-line to side-line. So, I line them up and I say, "I'm going to run these with you. If I beat you back down to this line, YOU ARE NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH. Do NOT wuss out. Do NOT slack off. I have 10 years on you. Let's see it." And to make matters worse, I sprint the entire time. I race them. They get all worked up. Maybe I'm mean. Maybe they should make their free-throw shots.

One of my students told me today that she and her sister, get this, invented the word "crap." Incidentally, the dance being done in the latest Snoop Dogg video...also her creation.

Stay Off of My Blue Suede Shoes

So today I give my kids the biggest speech of all time:

"In 8 months you'll be going into the ninth grade. Do you realize that the minute you walk in those doors over there everything you do counts towards your transcript that you'll use to try and apply to colleges? Do you also realize that of all the millions of jobs that are available now, only 10% of those jobs are open to people who do not have at least a 2-year college degree? (I totally made that up, but it's also possible that I heard it somewhere before...) The world is full of people who need to work, who have to work, and you'll be one of them soon. And you'll need to be competitive and you'll need to be confident and able to maximize your strengths. And most of all, you'll need to be able to communicate your own value! And that, my kids, starts today, starts right here in this room. I'm going to teach you how to do that very thing!"

Seriously, I was two seconds away from saying "Today is the first day of the rest of your lives."

When it was done, my kids all looked at me solemnly and nodded their heads. They understood! This is a big deal! They must behave so that they can learn learn learn! All, that is, except for one kid. He looks up at me at the end of my speech, with this very profound look. He's got long blonde hair and it's hanging in his face and he's peering out at me looking very thoughtful, and I assume he's going to say something to the effect of "I will do my best" or "I am ready for this challenge." But, no no.

"Ms. Grooms, are your shoes suede?"

Oh boy. You gotta love that.

Home is Where You Carve the Ham

So, I carved the ham at Meredith's New Years dinner last night while she spun around in the kitchen fussing over the 28 dishes she had prepared for us. I had a huge knife and just went at it.

Shelley set the table and made the drink glasses.

Colin, Joe, and Brian watched football.

We all had a great meal, during which Wrigley came in and got under the table. He still has no concept of how big he is. Brian had to sit on a stool because all of the dining room chairs haven't been painted yet.

Shelley and I cleaned up the table while Meredith did the dishes. I cleaned off the hambone so Wrigley could have it and Shelley dried and put away the dishes.

Colin, Joe, and Brian watched football.

Now, in all fairness, before dinner started Colin, Joe, and Brian did hang two new blinds in the living room AND Brian opened the wine bottle. All of this while they were watching football.

Later I mentioned to Meredith that I was considering (along with Kris and Rob) running the Cooper River Bridge Run this year.

She said: "What, you just run across the bridge? I'll go with you."

We watched that Ashley Judd movie Twisted with Wrigley lying on the bed. I was pretty sure who the killer was fifteen minutes into the movie, but Meredith and I still spent most of the time going "It's him...no it's him...maybe it's him...it's the little Chinese woman!" And, naturally, in the end, when it turned out to be the guy who was my initial guess...I pretended to have been right all along. We decided that we'd have made good home-icide detectives.

What's that line from Garden State? It's Zach Braff and he's talking to Natalie Portman when he says something like: "You know that moment when you realize that the house you grew up in isn't your home anymore?"

My mom called and told me that she wishes I had been able to come home and have New Years dinner "with family." How can I tell her that I feel like I did? How could I explain to her that it never occurred to me once, during the ham-carving and Wrigley-under-the-table and Brian-on-the-stool and Colin trying to convince everyone to see Napolean Dynamite and Meredith trying to get me to take some ham home...to feel like I was missing something because I didn't go back to the place I grew up for this holiday? Ah...growing up.

Here's to 2005.